A Twist of Lemon
by Kooshball
Summary: Things aren't alway what they seem. Final chapter up.
1. Chapter One

**Kooshball note: **Another Klinger fic. There just isn't enough of them! I'm fairly pleased at how this has turned out so far, but like always, wold love to hear your opinions. I've been practicing on my descriptions, so that would be the best thing to comment on in this chapter! I promise it won't be a 50 chapter fic like I sometimes do, and there probably won't be a sequel. Please tell me what you think.

* * *

"Let me do that," Klinger said as she reached under her top for the back of her bra. He ran his hand up her shirt after she took her hand away, and unclasped her bra quickly.

"You're good at that," she said. "Most men fumble when it comes to the bra."

"I had practise, from my section eight days," Klinger said. She just smiled, and pulled her top slowly, allowing it to fall to the ground. Her bra fell from her chest a moment afterwards.

Klinger swallowed hard and stared. "Wow," he breathed.

* * *

**A few hours earlier**

"Klinger, this guy next," Hawkeye said, pointing to the bleeding man on the stretcher.

"Right away, sir," Klinger said, picking up the closest end of the stretcher while Father Mulcahy grabbed the other.

"I don't know how many more hours of wounded we can handle," Father Mulcahy said. "The doctors have been handling wounded on and off for the last three days."

"Once we get this guy inside, I'm gonna call the 8063rd and see if they can send supplies or doctors, maybe take some of the wounded, anything to lessen the load," Klinger replied. He backed through the swinging doors and bumped into Margaret.

"Watch where you're going, Klinger," Margaret snapped.

"Sorry, Major," Klinger apologised. "I don't have eyes in the back of my head like you, ya know." Margaret pressed her lips together, but didn't say anything else. Klinger and Father Mulcahy eased the soldier onto the metal table.

"How many out there, Klinger?" Colonel Potter asked from two tables over, one of the nurses pulling rubber gloves onto his hands.

"I don't know, maybe a dozen," Klinger replied. The Colonel sighed.

"A dozen too many," he said.

"Look on the bright side. The war can't last forever, can it?" BJ asked from the other side of Hawkeye's table.

"Sooner or later they'll run out of bodies to shoot at," Margaret said coldly.

"Where is Winchester?" Potter snapped at Klinger.

"The Major is scrubbing right now, sir," Klinger said. He hurried out of the OR, and pulled the mask from his face. He was covered in sweat, not because he was hot, in fact, the weather had been almost perfect for the last week and a half. Klinger was sweating from fear, the blood and workload, and anything else that made his job harder. Radar had been gone only two weeks, and he still wasn't used to the running around, keeping everything in order, or anything else Radar had been expected to do. Klinger wiped his forehead, then walked briskly towards his office. That still sounded unusual. _His office_. To himself and everyone else in camp, it was still really Radar's office.

Klinger got onto the phone the minute he got in to the office. After getting through to the 8063rd, he was going to maybe get some lunch, then go back to the OR and help the corpsmen. He jumped when the voice at the other end started squawking at him.

"8063rd, Corporal Marks speaking."

"Hey, Danny, it's me Klinger. Listen, is your outfit getting the wounded we are?" Klinger asked.

"What wounded?" Marks asked.

"Is it alright if we start sending some of them your way? We're flooded here," Klinger said.

"Send 'em if you want. I'll give the doctors here the heads up," Marks told him.

"Thanks," Klinger said, relieved. He hung the phone up, then lay his head on the table, for just a moment. He jumped awake a few minutes later when Father Mulcahy tapped him on the shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked him.

"Yeah, just tired. How long was I asleep?" Klinger asked.

"No long," Father Mulcahy reassured him.

"Listen, we can send some of the wounded to the 8063rd. Are there any ambulances still around?" Klinger asked.

"I think there might be a chopper," Father Mulcahy said.

"Perfect. You go tell them to wait, I'll get the wounded," Klinger said. Suddenly, the sound of ambulances could be heard, first soft, then louder as they pulled into the compound, and the two men looked at each other. "Better yet, we'll ask them to go to the 8063rd," Klinger muttered, running out of the office. He stopped the driver who was running to the back of his ambulance.

"We don't need more wounded, take them to the 8063rd," Klinger said.

"But you guys are closer," the driver said.

"Our surgeons have been operating for days," Klinger said. "I just checked with the 8063rd, they haven't operated since sometime last week."

"Alright," the driver said, glaring at Klinger as he was herded back into his ambulance. "But if any of these guys die, I hope they come to haunt you, not me."

"Superstitious nonsense," Klinger yelled at the ambulance as it hurried away.

"Get some sleep," Father Mulcahy said to Klinger kindly. "I'll go help in OR."

"Thanks, Father," Klinger grinned tiredly. "I'm sick of being run off my feet. Who do they think I am, Radar?" He walked slowly back to his office and collapsed onto his cot. His eyes closed quickly, and he was asleep within minutes.

* * *

The sound of a jeep horn burst into Klinger's dreams. He jumped awake, vaguely wondering why General Mac Arthur made the same noises as a jeep when he gave out section eight papers. He got up, trying to straighten his untidy uniform as he went outside.

There was a woman in the driver's seat of the jeep, two wounded men in the back. The woman wore a tightly done up jacket over her shirt, stained with days worth of blood, dirt and sweat.

"Corpsmen!" Klinger yelled, running over to the jeep.

"It's 'bout time," the woman said, smiling slightly in a sad manner.

"What happened?" Klinger asked her as a few men ran towards the jeep with stretchers.

"We're from an aid station. Got separated from the others we were traveling with, and a bomb hit us as we ran from the jeep. They got hit bad, so I loaded them back onto the jeep, and drove here," the woman replied. She stumbled from the jeep, and almost fell to the ground. Klinger caught her, and helped her to walk. As the corpsmen took the two injured men away, he led the woman into his office, and sat her down on the cot.

The woman looked like she had been pretty before the war. She was malnourished, too thin looking to be healthy. Tiredness showed clearly on her face, and though the grime, there was a look in her large brown eyes that she may be ready to just give up on life.

"What's your name?" Klinger asked her.

"Lieutenant Humphrey," she replied, trying to straighten her hair a little.

"Not your rank, your name. Your first name," Klinger said. She looked up at him and gave another small, sad smile.

"Not very military, are you?" she asked. "I'm Lona."

"Max Klinger," Klinger said. "You don't look so good. Are you ok?"

"My chest hurts. I was hit too, but I didn't want to appear weak in front of those guys. It's bad enough I get a hard time for being a girl," she said.

"We've got understanding doctors here. They don't care if you're a guy or a gal, they'll fix you up," Klinger said. Lona gave her sad smile again. She unbuttoned her jacket as if it hurt to move too much, and took it off. Underneath, her shirt was red from blood and torn from pieces of shrapnel.

"Let me do that," Klinger said as she reached under her top for the back of her bra. He ran his hand up her shirt after she took her hand away, and unclasped her bra quickly.

"You're good at that," she said. "Most men fumble when it comes to the bra."

"I had practise, from my section eight days," Klinger said. She just smiled, and pulled her top slowly, allowing it to fall to the ground. Her bra fell from her chest a moment afterwards.

Klinger swallowed hard and stared. "Wow," he breathed.

Lona's chest and stomach was a mess of torn flesh and half dried blood. Klinger looked away, maybe a second too late, embarrassed to catch himself staring.

"Do you have a night robe or something? Anything that I can cover myself with," Lona said, hiding her chest with her thin arms. Klinger hurried over to his footlocker, and dug around in it for a moment.

"Here," he said, handing her a feminine powder blue silk shirt, avoiding looking at her. "I won't need it ever again."

"That section eight you were talking about, huh?" Lona asked. Klinger nodded as she took it from him. He turned around again when she had pulled it on. Blood showed through the shirt almost instantly.

"I'm sorry it's not your size," he said. Lona glanced down at the shirt. It hung loosely around her body, where the blood hadn't glued it to her body.

"It's ok. It means it doesn't press against my wounds," she said, giving her sad smile again. Klinger helped her out of his office, and across the compound. He left her in the small room between OR and Post op as he held a mask to his mouth and went into the OR.

"Sir, there's another person out there," Klinger said. "She looks pretty bad."

"Why weren't they put through triage?" Potter asked.

"She got here with two other guys, I think that's one of them you're working on now, sir, but she didn't want to appear weak in front of them, so she held off for a while," Klinger explained.

"I'm closing now, Klinger. Prep her, and bring her in," Hawkeye offered.

"I'd rather someone else did the operation, no offence, Hawkeye," Klinger said. "I've seen her wounds, and I'd hate it if I had to listen to you making jokes through the operation."

"Chest wounds?" Margaret guessed. Klinger nodded.

"Any objection to me operating on her, Klinger?" BJ said. "I'll be closing once I stitch this lung up."

"Thank you, sir," Klinger said, walking out quickly again.

"Can you believe it?" Hawkeye said to the nurse assisting him. "He doesn't want me operating on this nurse."

"I don't know why," the nurse replied sarcastically. "You're such a gentleman while operating."

"Sirs," Klinger said, bursting into the OR a few minutes later, supporting Lona. "She just blacked out, while I was talking to her."

"Corpsman!" Colonel Potter yelled. Father Mulcahy ran in, tying his mask back and being followed by two corpsmen.

"Move this guy, he's finished," Hawkeye said. The two corpsmen grabbed the stretcher on the hard, metal table, and Father Mulcahy helped Klinger lift Lona onto the table.

"Nurse, close, will you?" BJ said, rushing over to the woman on the table and ripping his gloves off.

"Klinger, get a mask on!" Margaret screeched. Klinger hurriedly took the mask from his pocket and tied it onto his head, Margaret glaring at him.

"She doesn't have dogtags, Klinger," BJ said.

"That's impossible," Klinger said, moving over to the table to see for himself.

"Is she even part of the army?" Hawkeye suggested, looking her over quickly.

"She was wearing a uniform before, maybe her dogtags are still with her jacket. Or they could have fallen off in the jeep," Klinger said.

"Max?" Lona said, blinking her eyes.

"Are you ok?" Klinger said, picking up her hand.

"Yeah, I think so. Where am I?" Lona asked.

"You're in OR," BJ said. "But we need to stabilize you before I can operate. Do you know your blood type?"

"B negative," Lona said. She glanced over to Klinger. "Don't leave me, will you Max?"

"I'll be here the whole time," Klinger promised. Lona smiled as Margaret came over with a whole unit of blood.

"Good," she whispered, closing her eyes. Margaret hooked the needle into her arm, and made sure the fluids were running properly into her body.

"How long until she's stabilized?" Klinger asked, not taking his eyes of her.

"Depends how much blood she's lost," BJ replied, unbuttoning the few buttons done up on the blue shirt.

"One of your former shirts, Klinger?" Hawkeye asked. Klinger just shot Hawkeye a quick look, and Hawkeye closed his mouth. BJ whistled when he saw the damage to Lona's chest and stomach.

"It's not as bad as it could be," BJ said. "She looks like she might have been partially behind something when she got hit."

"Will she be ok?" Klinger asked.

"I hope so," BJ said, glancing up at the bottle on the stand.

"You're very quiet, Pierce," Colonel Potter said. "What's the matter?"

"I'm surprised she could walk over to the OR like this," Hawkeye replied.

"She came in a jeep, with those other two guys. She was driving, didn't appear to be too hurt," Klinger said, keeping his attention focused on Lona's face. "Had a little trouble getting outta the jeep, and needed a little help into my office. She showed me what had happened, and I helped her over here. She didn't show any signs of being in pain, except she had to do everything real slow."

"That is pretty impressive," Hawkeye said. Colonel Potter walked over briskly and took a look.

"What's her name?" he asked.

"Lieutenant Lona Humphrey," Klinger said. "She said she was at an aid station."

"I don't think I've ever heard of a nurse at an aid station. I'll do a check on her," Colonel Potter said, heading towards the wash up area. "Just to be sure."

"Think it's about time to start cutting?" BJ asked Hawkeye. Hawkeye nodded.

"I'll feed her gas, so she doesn't wake up halfway through," he offered. "And no jokes or crude comments," he promised Klinger as he sat himself behind Lona's head. Klinger didn't say anything, he was too busy staring at Lona's peaceful face.

"Nurse, scalpel," BJ said, holding his hand out.


	2. Chapter Two

"What does the doctor say? Am I going to be ok?" she asked.

"Yeah, you're going to be fine," Klinger lied, taking her hand and trying to blink his tears away. She gave him her smile again, and closed her eyes. Her hand in Klinger's went limp, and Klinger lay it down on the cot beside her. A tear escaped while he covered her with a blanket, and he wiped his eyes with his hand. He walked away quickly, before anyone could stop him and ask him what was wrong.

* * *

**_The day before_**

"Will she be ok?" Klinger asked BJ as the surgeon took his rubber gloves off.

"She has a chance, but it would have been better if she'd gotten medical attention sooner," BJ replied. Klinger ripped his gaze away from the woman's face.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Her wounds were dried out a little, she probably had been hit at least fourteen hours before she came here," BJ explained, allowing the nurse to button up Lona's shirt.

"She'll be lucky if she survives," Hawkeye added. Klinger picked up one end of the stretcher, and BJ took the other.

"Thanks," Klinger said as they walked through to the Post op. "I know you did all you could for her."

"She has a chance, Klinger," BJ reminded him. "Keep your hopes up." Klinger nodded.

"She looks sick, like she hasn't been eating," he said. "Can you do anything about that?"

"Everything we can," Hawkeye said.

"What's this?" Charles asked when he saw them easing Lona from the stretcher onto a spare cot.

"It's called a human being, Charles. We heal them, remember?" Hawkeye asked.

"She came in with chest wounds, large loss of blood," BJ said. "Klinger brought her in just after you finished." Charles looked at the woman. The silk shirt she wore was splattered with blood, soaking the bandage underneath it and her face wasn't as peaceful as it was when Klinger promised her he wouldn't leave her.

"She doesn't have any dogtags," he said finally.

"We know," BJ said. "She said she was with an aid station."

"An aid station?" one of the nurses asked, coming over. "Nurses don't get assigned permanently to aid stations, it's too dangerous or something."

"Maybe she was a patient," Hawkeye suggested. The nurse shrugged.

"Yeah, but why was she out there in the first place? If she was at a MASH or something, wouldn't they fix her up there?" the nurse asked, walking away.

"Come on, Beej, I have an appointment with my cot for the next twelve hours," Hawkeye said, heading towards the door.

"You should get some sleep as well, Klinger," BJ said, following his tent mate.

"I'm gonna stay here," Klinger said over his shoulder. "I want to be here when she wakes up."

"That could be a while," BJ said, stopping. "Get a few hours sleep, she'll still be here when you get back." Klinger shook his head.

"I want to know if she's gonna be ok," he said. BJ shrugged before disappearing out the door.

"I will tell you when she wakes up," Charles said. "Go get some sleep." Klinger looked up in surprise in the forcefulness of Charles's voice.

"I got a few things I need to do first anyway," Klinger said, standing up and stalking out. He went back to his office, where Lona's clothes still lay. He hesitated when he went to pick them up.

"Come on, it's not like you haven't touched a bra before," he told himself sternly. Klinger knew, though, it was different this time around, because this one belonged to a woman he barely knew and it was soaked with her blood.

Eventually, Klinger picked it up using Lona's half blown away shirt, and lay it down carefully on his footlocker, making sure he would be able to pick it up later. He searched the jacket's pockets, hoping to find Lona's dogtags somewhere, but all he came up with was lint and half an envelope with no address. They hadn't fallen onto the floor either. Klinger walked outside and was half surprised to see the sun already partway set. He obviously had lost track of time while watching BJ operate.

Heading for the motor pool, Klinger kept an eye out for discarded dogtags on the ground as he walked. The only other place Lona's dogtags could be would be in the jeep, or lost somewhere between there and the aid station the woman had come from. He had no trouble finding which had been the jeep Lona and the other two men had come in, it was the only one with blood on the seats. Slightly queasy at knowing who's blood was on the front seat, Klinger looked around the jeep carefully for Lona's dogtags.

Coming up with nothing again, he walked back to the Post op.

"Any change?" he asked Charles.

"I told you, I will tell you when she wakes up!" Charles snapped. Klinger flinched under the shouting, but didn't walk out again. Instead, he went to the empty cot beside Lona, and lay down on it.

"I'll be sleeping here for a while," he said. "At least until she wakes up."

"Awww, let him, Charles," BJ said, walking in. "He's not hurting anyone."

"Fine," Charles snapped. Klinger turned his head and watched Lona for a while as Charles gave BJ an update on the patients in the room.

"You've grown attached to her," BJ observed, a few minutes after Charles had left. Klinger jumped.

"I don't know why," he said, sitting up. "She's just other patient."

"Except she's a girl," BJ pointed out. "And she showed you something very intimate a few minutes after you met her."

"Yeah, that might have something to do with it," Klinger said, turning a little red around the collar.

"I'll call you when she starts waking up, ok?" BJ said, giving Klinger a quick grin before walking to the other end of the room. Klinger lay down again, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Klinger woke two hours later. He sat up, not feeling much better than before. He glanced at Lona, still sleeping. Someone had come along and cleaned her up a little, and put a night gown on her. Klinger recognised it as being Margaret's, and he thanked her in his mind.

Stretching, Klinger looked around for the two men Lona had brought in. He spotted one with Margaret, who was staring at her chest with little subtlety.

"Major," he called out, walking over to the cot. Margaret turned, and the man's eyes followed her chest as it swiveled away from him. Klinger could understand why Lona hadn't wanted to say anything in front of him and his mate.

"Corporal," Margaret replied, giving him a swift nod.

"I'd like to thank you for what you did for Lon- I mean, Lieutenant Humphrey," Klinger said.

"I'm a nurse, it's what's expected of me," Margaret said, pretending to read the chart in her hand. She looked up and gave Klinger a warm smile. "You're welcome," she said.

"What happened to you guys out there? Lieutenant Humphrey told us you got separated from your aid station and almost got blown up," Klinger said to the man in the cot.

"Lieutenant Humphrey?" he asked, tearing his eyes away from Margaret's chest for a moment. "Who's Lieutenant Humphrey?" Margaret pointed to Lona in the cot across the Post op. "I've never seen her in my life. I was scouting the area with Private Curtis over there, and I stepped on a land mine. I don't remember anything else, except waking up here," he said.

"Maybe we should talk to Private Curtis as well," Margaret said concernedly to Klinger. "We need to find out where the Lieutenant came from." Klinger cast a look at Lona, and hurried over when he saw her stirring.

"Max?" she asked faintly. Klinger knelt down beside her and took her hand, only half aware of Margaret standing behind him.

"I'm here, Lona," he said.

"Am I going to be alright?" she asked.

"There's a good chance you'll survive," Margaret said. "Don't worry about it, we have good doctors here that will do everything they can to help you."

"Great," Lona said, smiling. Klinger could feel his heart breaking, then melting at the sad smile.

"I promise, you'll get the best attention, and you'll get to go home," he whispered to her. Margaret heard him, and frowned. There was a larger chance of the woman dying than living, even though she hated to admit it, and she felt sorry for Klinger making a promise he mightn't be able to keep.

"I think you should get some more rest, Lieutenant. You'll recover quickly if you get more rest," Margaret said. Lona nodded, and closed her eyes again. "Klinger," Margaret said, pulling him a little way away from the cot. "Are you sure you aren't setting yourself up for a fall?"

"What do you mean?" Klinger asked.

"She mightn't make it," Margaret said, trying to break it to him softly. "She was hurt badly, and I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't infected, having taken so long to get medical attention."

"She'll live," Klinger said. "She has to." He stormed out of the Post op, wishing he could stay with Lona, but knowing there were forms to be filled out.

* * *

"Klinger, I checked up on your Lieutenant at HQ," Colonel Potter said. "She's been missing in action since near the beginning of the war, believed to be dead."

"P.O.W?" BJ asked. Klinger, BJ, Hawkeye and Margaret had all gone to Potter's office to find out what Lona's story was. Colonel Potter had spent all of the night trying to find out information on Lona, and was now willing to share it with the others, the morning after she'd arrived.

"Possibly. One of the Majors I talked to said she'd probably gone AWOL to avoid helping Uncle Sam," Potter said.

"Ah, from the mouth of idiots," Hawkeye said sarcastically. "Sounds like he's related to Colonel Flagg."

"Probably was Colonel Flagg," BJ said.

"So what are we going to do about her?" Margaret wanted to know.

"Ask her questions. The two men she brought in don't know her, maybe she's a scam artist," Potter said.

"Lona is not a scam artist," Klinger said.

"We have to check all possibilities," Potter replied. "We'll let her rest for now, and talk to her when she's feeling stronger. Dismissed." Klinger slouched out of Colonel Potter's office after Hawkeye and BJ, half angry at the Colonel for suggesting she might be a scam artist.

"So some woman pretends to be another nurse who's died, so she can do what? Collect her paycheck?" Klinger muttered to himself loudly.

"She's probably not a scam artist, Klinger," BJ said kindly. "Potter just wants to cover all the fields." When he didn't get a response from Klinger, he left with Hawkeye, heading for the Swamp and Still. Klinger walked into the Post op, to see Lona.

"Corporal Klinger," Charles said when Klinger walked in the door. "May I have a word with you?" Klinger's eyes widened slightly, and he glanced over at Lona's cot. Charles took Klinger to the corner and spoke softly to Klinger. As he talked, Klinger's mouth slowly dropped, and he looked from Lona to Charles.

"I'm going to leave the room for a moment," Charles said, "Give you a moment's time with her." Klinger nodded vaguely, and he walked over to Lona's cot, still in a daze. Charles watched him walk to the cot, then slipped out the door.

Lona looked up when Klinger came up beside her cot.

"Hey, Max," she said, giving him her small, said smile, looking more tired than she had yesterday.

"Hi… Lona," Klinger said.

"What's the doctor say? Am I going to be ok?" she asked.

"Yeah, you're going to be fine," Klinger lied, taking her hand and trying to blink his tears away. She gave him her smile again, and closed her eyes. Her hand in Klinger's went limp, and Klinger lay it down on the cot beside her. A tear escaped while he covered her with a blanket, and he wiped his eyes with his hand. He walked away quickly, before anyone could stop him and ask him what was wrong.

* * *

**Kooshball note: **Oooo, cliffhanger! Please review, they're all I've been living off for the last year!


	3. Chapter Three

"Klinger?" Father Mulcahy called through the office door.

"Come in, Father," Klinger said, not bothering to hide the dress. He had wanted it to be a secret until morning, that's why he'd waited until most for the camp was asleep before pulling it out. However, he trusted Father Mulcahy, and knew he'd understand why he was doing this.

"I saw your light on," Father Mulcahy said, stepping into Klinger's office. "I- Oh." He stopped and looked at the long, red dress on the mannequin. "That's a dress," he said eventually.

"Yes it is, Father," Klinger said, not stopping his sewing.

"This is about Lona, isn't it?" Father Mulcahy said.

"Better believe it," Klinger replied.

"I understand you're upset about this whole thing," Father Mulcahy said.

"Father Mulcahy, I'm more than upset," Klinger said, putting down the needle and turning to face the chaplain. "I'm torn up inside. I feel like I'm going to die as well. When I used to feel like this, my dresses comforted me. They were going to be my ticket home. I want those days back. I want Radar to come back to his old job and let me get back into a dress and get my section eight."

* * *

**_That morning_**

Charles knew Klinger had connected with Lona, and it killed him inside to have to tell him the bad news. He'd known Klinger for what seemed like years, and despite treating him the way he did, he felt like they were almost friends.

"Corporal Klinger," Charles said when Klinger walked in the door. "May I have a word with you?" Klinger's eyes widened slightly, and he glanced over at Lona's cot. Charles led Klinger to the corner.

"What's wrong?" Klinger demanded.

"She's caught an infection, a bad one," Charles said softly. "Her chances of survival are slim, becoming slimmer. There isn't a lot we can do, Klinger." Klinger's mouth slowly dropped as the Major talked, and he glanced over at Lona for a second.

"No," he whispered.

"I'm going to leave the room for a moment," Charles said, "Give you a moment's time with her." Klinger nodded vaguely, and he walked over to Lona's cot, still in a daze. Charles watched him walk to the cot, then slipped out the door. Outside, he closed his eyes and slowly counted to two hundred. It was an old trick he'd learnt when he was younger, to calm him before and after giving a patient bad news. When he reached two hundred, he opened his eyes and raised his hand to his temples. His trick hadn't worked that time. Charles sighed, then went into Post op again.

The far door was swinging closed when he went in, and Lona was sleeping peacefully, a blanket pulled up to her chin. No doubt Klinger would be hiding away somewhere, refusing to talk to anyone. A classical reaction to this sort of thing. Sighing, Charles went about his duties, trying not to think about Klinger or Lona.

* * *

"Lona – I may call you Lona, right?" Hawkeye said. Lona just nodded her head. "Lona, I don't know how I can break this to you, but you've got an infection, a bad one, and there's a good chance you won't be going home."

"Max said I was going to be ok," Lona said.

"When Klinger found out about this infection, he was torn up inside. He probably told you that you were going to be fine for his benefit, more than yours," Hawkeye explained. "We still haven't found him since the Major told him."

"I want to talk to him," Lona said.

"Right, the moment we find him, we'll tell him," Hawkeye said.

"No I want to talk to him now," Lona said. She closed her eyes for a moment. "He's behind Rosie's, thinking about getting his dresses out again." Hawkeye raised an eyebrow.

"He tell you that's where he'd be?" he asked. Lona opened her eyes again and shook her head. She smiled up at Hawkeye, the same sad smile she gave everyone.

"I just know," she said simply.

"Right," Hawkeye said, thinking for a moment. "I'll go look for Klinger, ask the nurse if you need anything." Lona nodded, and Hawkeye walked out the door. There was no possible way she could know where Klinger was. Out of morbid curiosity, Hawkeye walked towards Rosie's bar.

"Hello, Hawkeye. The usual?" Rosie asked when Hawkeye stuck his head into the bar.

"Not right now, Rosie. I'm looking for Corporal Klinger," Hawkeye said. "You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Guy who used to wear dresses?" Rosie asked. "I think I saw him head out in the field behind here. You could try there."

"Thanks, Rosie," Hawkeye said, going back outside. He walked around the back of Rosie's, and over the small rise there.

"Heads I go back to the dresses, tails I ask Potter for a hardship discharge."

"Klinger, is that you?" Hawkeye called. "Klinger, it's me, Hawkeye. Can I talk to you?"

"Go away," Klinger called back from where ever he was. "I'm sick of this war. I've seen my last death."

"Klinger, she isn't dead yet," Hawkeye said. Klinger poked his head out from behind a large tree.

"Yeah, but what chance does she have? None. I might as well be back home, away from the war," he said. Hawkeye walked over to the tree. There was a fur stole on Klinger's lap, and his cheeks were wet from crying. "You wouldn't have a quarter, would you?" he asked.

"Lona wants to talk to you," Hawkeye said. "I'm not sure how she'd handle seeing you in a dress." Klinger just sat there in a sullen mood. Sighing, Hawkeye pulled some coins out of his pocket. "Flip a coin. Except, it's heads you stay sane, tails you try the crazy gimmick again," he said. Klinger took the coin from Hawkeye.

"Alright," he said, flicking the coin into the air. Catching it again, he looked at the coin face.

"So?" Hawkeye asked.

"Heads," Klinger sighed. "I guess you win."

"Course I win. This is my lucky coin," Hawkeye said. "I use it to decide who goes first when I play chess with BJ." Klinger flipped the coin over.

"It's got two head sides!" Klinger exclaimed.

"See, it's a lucky coin," Hawkeye said, helping Klinger up. "Talk to Lona, she'd love it if you did."

"Fine. I'll give company clerk another go," Klinger said, wiping his face dry. "But what do I do with this?" He held up the fur stole. Hawkeye took it from him and wrapped it around his own neck.

"We'll just say it's mine," he said, leading Klinger back towards camp.

* * *

"Hey, you found Klinger!" BJ said, coming into the post op. "Where was he?"

"Behind Rosie's, about to pick up the crazy act again," Hawkeye said, giving Lona a funny look as he led BJ back outside the Post op to give Klinger and Lona space. "I'll tell you about it later."

"I'm glad you came back," Lona said to Klinger.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about what was happening," Klinger said. "I was upset, I didn't want to believe it myself. I don't want you to die."

"Max, even if I did die, what would it matter? Your life would go on, the world will continue to turn. I am but one person on an Earth of many," Lona said.

"You sound like you should be taking sermons," Klinger said. She smiled sadly.

"Max, I didn't want to live any more just a few days ago. All this needless death, people who'll have memories that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. I couldn't take it any more."

She paused. "When I came here, to this MASH outfit, I was in pain. But it was distant, someone else's pain, like I was already dead. You saved me, Max. You helped me inside, showed me people were still able to show compassion. It brought me back, and I didn't want to die any more, because of you." She paused again and looked up into Klinger's eyes.

"I'm not scared of dying, like I was when I first came into this war," she said. "I just accept it."

"But I can't," Klinger said.

* * *

Klinger pulled out his old mannequin doll from under his cot. Dusting it off, he stood it up and looked at it. He had made so many dresses on this thing, and it had served as a great helmet and bra stand. Readjusting it so it was a smaller size, he picked up Lona's ripped bra and fitted it onto the mannequin to make sure he'd estimated the right size. After a few more adjustments, he went to his footlocker and took out a roughly tied up brown package and an assortment of needles and threads.

Inside the package was a pale red dress that had he had ordered just before Radar went home, never worn. His heart ached when he saw the dress, in a strange way he missed them. Putting it on the mannequin, he began making the necessary adjustments to the dress so it would fit. Klinger was used to making adjustments to new dresses and skirts he'd ordered by catalogue, they never fit quite right, and usually he'd have to widen the waist, bring up the hem, and once, even take it in at the sides. This dress was no different, if Radar hadn't gone home, Klinger would have adjusted it when it first arrived. He was glad he hadn't thrown it out when it got to him just two days after he decided to give up the section eight thing, it was pretty and he was glad to be able to use it.

"Klinger?" Father Mulcahy called through the office door.

"Come in, Father," Klinger said, not bothering to hide the dress. He had wanted it to be a secret until morning, that's why he'd waited until most for the camp was asleep before pulling it out. However, he trusted Father Mulcahy, and knew he'd understand why he was doing this.

"I saw your light on," Father Mulcahy said, stepping into Klinger's office. "I- Oh." He stopped and looked at the long, red dress on the mannequin. "That's a dress," he said eventually.

"Yes it is, Father," Klinger said, not stopping his sewing.

"This is about Lona, isn't it?" Father Mulcahy said.

"Better believe it," Klinger replied.

"I understand you're upset about this whole thing," Father Mulcahy said.

"Father Mulcahy, I'm more than upset," Klinger said, putting down the needle and turning to face the chaplain. "I'm torn up inside. I feel like I'm going to die as well. When I used to feel like this, my dresses comforted me. They were going to be my ticket home. I want those days back. I want Radar to come back to his old job and let me get back into a dress and get my section eight."

"Klinger," Father Mulcahy started, unsure what to say.

"Relax, I'm not going back to wearing dresses. This is for Lona," Klinger explained, pointing to the dress. "Why should she spend her last few days in fatigues?"

"That's very noble, Klinger," Father Mulcahy said, sounding slightly relieved.

"I don't want her to die," Klinger said. "How do all those people back home cope when they get told their kid has died? I barely know Lona, and I feel my world is gonna end if she dies."

"Sometimes, I wonder if all this death is necessary for His plans," Father Mulcahy said.

"What do you end up deciding?" Klinger asked.

"It must be, otherwise why would He take those that mean so much to us?" Father Mulcahy replied. "Goodnight, Klinger. I'll be praying for Lona."

"Thank you, Father," Klinger said, turning back to the dress. Father Mulcahy quietly left, leaving a silent pray with Klinger before closing the door after him. When he heard the door shut, Klinger put the needle and thread down again and stared at the dress for a few moments. He took the dress off the mannequin and packed everything away, the dress folded up neatly on the top of his belongings in his footlocker. Klinger lay down on his cot, turned out the light, and spent an hour looking at the ceiling before finally falling asleep.


	4. Chapter Four

"I got you something," Klinger said to Lona when he reached her cot. She jumped, then looked around.

"It's beautiful!" she said after a small gasp. Klinger handed the dress to her and she unfolded it. "Why?" Klinger shrugged.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "It's got to be better than sitting in your uniform the whole time." Lona smiled, slightly warmer than the sad smile that spooked the nurses and corpsmen.

"Help me put it on?" she asked.

**_Before _**

"Klinger, wake up," Potter said, giving Klinger a slight shake.

"What?" Klinger blinked awake and struggled to sit up.

"Easy, Klinger," Potter said. "It's just me."

"Sorry, Sir," Klinger mumbled, still half asleep. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I'm about to question Lona, that's all. I thought you'd like to be there," Potter explained.

"Yessir," Klinger said. "Permission to get changed first?"

"Of course," Potter said, walking out of the room. Klinger got up and quickly pulled on his pants and jacket. Stamping his feet into his boots, he walked into the Post op.

"Ready," he said to Potter who was with Margaret.

"Write all this down, won't you?" Potter asked, handing Klinger a pencil and clipboard. Klinger nodded and trailed after him over to Lona's bed, where the young woman was asleep. Margaret followed them, and tapped Potter on the shoulder.

"I thought we were going to wait until she was better to question her?" she asked.

"The lieutenant was awake earlier this morning, and she seemed healthier than she has been since she first came in," Potter said. "Anyway, we mightn't get a day where she's feeling better." Klinger glanced at his watch. Nearly 1000 hours. He'd overslept, far longer than usual.

"Don't worry about the time," Potter said to him. "You've had a lot on your chest." Klinger nodded, and sat on the foldout chair beside Lona's cot. He tapped her gently, and her eyes opened almost instantly.

"Hi, Max," she said, her smile warmer than it usually was.

"I'd like to ask a few questions, lieutenant," Potter said, sitting on the empty cot on the other side of her. "Please answer them as truthfully as possible."

"This is about what I told Max when I first got here, isn't it?" she asked. "When I said I was with an aid station?" Potter nodded.

"There is no records of a nurse being permanently assigned to an aid station, the two men you brought in don't recognise you, and the army has you down as missing in action," Potter said.

"I was a POW," Lona said. "Caught when I went to give help to a local. The front line moved while I was there, and the village I was in was taken over by the North Koreans."

"Are the stories about what they do to female prisoners true?" Margaret asked.

"Worse," Lona replied. "They treat you like stray dogs, not fit to even eat their scraps, like toys, to be used until broken then thrown away and replaced."

"Can we get back to where you've been all this time?" Potter asked patiently. Margaret nodded in agreement, her face was pale and she looked a little shocked at Lona's description.

"I was at a POW camp since early in the war. I'd probably lasted the longest there, so many died from disease, infections, hunger. Some even killed themselves, believing they'd never get home again anyway. The Koreans never gave us a drop of medicine to help the sick.

"Five days ago, an American plane flew overhead and dropped a bomb nearby. Most of the North Koreans fled, and the POW's broke out. A lot of the others were gunned down by left behind Korean soldiers, but another bomb distracted them enough for the few left alive to escape." Lona hesitated.

"Is that how you got your chest full of shrapnel?" Potter asked. Lona nodded.

"I had just turned around to see if we were being chased, and was hit by the blast," she said. "One of the soldiers from the camp was right behind me, I probably would have been worse off if he hadn't been there at that moment."

"Dead?" Potter asked gently. Lona nodded. "Keep going," Potter said.

"There were six of us in the group. A few of them had been hit by the blast as well, two had been lucky, they'd been in the trees before the bomb and hadn't been touched. I bandaged up their wounds roughly, I was the only one qualified enough to do anything, and we started looking for the front line.

"One man died just ten minutes after we started heading south, from the stress, I guess. We buried him before moving on, it seemed like the honorable thing to do," Lona said.

"Did you get a name?" Potter asked. Lona nodded and reached into her pocket under the blankets.

"We agreed to keep track of everyone who'd died, so their families knew," she said. She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it. It was crumpled, browned from the dust. She handed it to Klinger and pointed out the names. "I think Harry Brown was the first man to die. Red Beckett was shot by a guerrilla a few days later, Tony Miller stepped on a landmine. Craig Dawnson died from infection and Ted Wild just disappeared. I don't know if he was recaptured or anything, he just didn't turn up again after scouting for food."

Klinger slipped the paper under the report. It would be important to the lost men's families.

"What next?" Potter asked quietly.

"I was starting to give up hope of ever finding anyone from our side to help me. I felt I was going to die, and no-one would ever find me," Lona continued, her eyes closed. "The bombing was bad where I was, and I found those two men I brought in beside the road, injured and out cold. Their jeep was nearby, so I loaded them in and followed the road the opposite direction the jeep was facing. I found their aid station, and they gave me instructions to come here after putting a few bandages on their friends. They didn't realise I was hurt myself, they just thought if I was right to drive to the aid station, I'd be ok to get here. They didn't even ask where I had come from.

"I arrived here, and told Max I'd been part of their aid station. It seemed easier at the time than to explain everything."

Potter nodded in understanding. "Anything else you want to say?" he asked.

"Thank you to your surgeons for doing all they can for me," Lona said. "I know I have a chance because of them."

"It's what we're here for," Potter said with a smile, standing up. Klinger stood up hurriedly with him.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he whispered to Lona before following Potter to his office. The Colonel waited to be seated behind his desk before saying anything.

"Radio HQ and give them the list of names," he said, pulling some paper from his desk. "And write up that report in triplicate."

"Yes sir," Klinger replied, turning to leave.

"Klinger?"

"Yes sir?" Klinger asked, stopping and turning to face Potter again.

"Take good care of her."

"Y-yes sir," Klinger said, slightly surprised by the Colonel's words. He hurried out again and stopped outside the door. Suddenly remembering the dress, he threw the clipboard with the report onto his desk, and opened his footlocker. The dress was where he left it, folded up carefully on top of his second uniform. He pulled it out gently and took it into the Post op. Lona was sitting up now, watching BJ talk to one of the far patients.

"I got you something," Klinger said to Lona when he reached her cot. She jumped, then looked around.

"It's beautiful!" she said after a small gasp. Klinger handed the dress to her and she unfolded it. "Why?" Klinger shrugged.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "It's got to be better than sitting in your uniform the whole time." Lona smiled, slightly warmer than the sad smile that spooked the nurses and corpsmen.

"Help me put it on?" she asked.

It took Klinger a moment or two she was asking Margaret, who'd come up behind Klinger to see the dress.

"Of course," Margaret said. She helped Lona out of her cot with Klinger's help, and took her behind the curtain where Lona could change in privacy.

"That was really nice of you, Klinger," BJ said, coming up behind him. "Some other men would have ignored her when they found out she probably wouldn't make it."

"That's what I was going to do, at first," Klinger admitted. "Then Hawkeye came found me and told me she wanted to talk to me. I couldn't say no."

"It was probably the best thing you could have done for her," BJ said. "She's getting better, Klinger, faster than anyone could have guessed. Hawk and I think it's because of you." Klinger didn't have a chance to answer, because at that moment, Margaret stepped out from behind the curtain and pulled it aside.

"Ta da!" she said as Lona was revealed. The dress fitted her almost perfectly. It looked tight across the chest, but that was because of bandages under it.

"It's perfect, Klinger," Lona said. She gave a small curtsey.

"You look fantastic," BJ said sincerely.

"Where did you get it, Klinger?" Margaret asked.

"Mail order," Klinger replied. "I got it just after Radar went home."

There was an awkward silence as the three 4077th members remembered the trouble they'd had at camp because of Radar going back to the states. Both BJ and Klinger avoided looking at anything apart from their shoes.

"I love it," Lona declared, ending the silence. She danced to Klinger lightly and wrapped her arms around his neck before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Klinger turned slightly red, and turned away.

"It was nothing," he mumbled.

"Come on, you should be resting," BJ said to Lona, but he was smiling when he said it. He helped her back into the cot, and she lay down, smoothing her dress out. BJ beckoned Margaret away so Klinger and Lona could be together for a while.

"BJ says you're getting better," Klinger said awkwardly.

"I feel better," Lona said. She suddenly gave Klinger a proper smile, and it struck Klinger how beautiful she was. The small sad smile she reserved for everyone seemed to say she'd given up, but this laughing smile, this smile of happiness, it made Klinger feel as if they were the only ones in the world.

"Hey Klinger," BJ's voice brought Klinger back to earth. He focused on BJ's voice, and couldn't help but notice Lona's smile had faded down to her usual sad smile.

"Sorry to interrupt again," BJ said, glancing from Klinger to Lona. "But you've got work to do." There was a slightly pained look on his face. "Sorry," he apologised. "It's just I'm off duty in ten minutes, and Charles will flip if he finds you in here again, not working."

"Ok, thanks, BJ," Klinger said. Turning to Lona, he said "I'll talk to you later." Lona just smiled her usual smile and gave a small wave. Klinger walked back to his office, a small spring in his step. There was something about Lona that just made him want to sing.


	5. Chapter Five

He ran his fingers lightly over Lona's stomach for a moment.

"Hawkeye," Lona said, giggling. "I'm ticklish."

"Sorry," Hawkeye said, moving his hands away. He stared into Lona's large brown eyes, thoughts running around in his head. Lona stared back from under her long lashes.

"Not what you expected?" she asked. Hawkeye shook his head.

"Not what I expected at all," he replied.

**Before**

"So, what do you think about Lona?" Hawkeye asked.

"Klinger likes her," BJ replied, not pausing from darning his sock.

"There's something about her," Hawkeye said. "Have you ever seen anyone heal that fast?"

"Maybe we were wrong when we said she had an infection," BJ suggested.

"No chance. Charles said he checked her results at least three times. He didn't want to have to tell Klinger," Hawkeye replied. He paused, taking a sip from his martini glass. "She said something weird to me when Klinger had gone missing, too," he said.

"Yeah?" BJ asked, looking up for a moment.

"She told me where I'd find him, and what he'd be doing," Hawkeye said. "When I asked her how she knew, she said she just knew."

"He might have told her," BJ said.

"I don't think so," Hawkeye replied. "He was behind Rosie's, with a fur stole around his neck. After I tricked him out of going back to his section eight, he was worried about it, worried at what Lona would say. I'd say she didn't know what he was like before Radar left."

"Actually, I told you about Klinger giving her a dress this afternoon?" BJ asked, tossing his socks into his open footlocker. "Margaret had to help her out of her cot, but then she moved like she'd never been hurt. I know her legs hadn't been sewn up or anything, but she shouldn't have had the energy to dance around."

"Dance around?" Hawkeye asked.

"Maybe _dance_ isn't the best description," BJ said. "But she moved very lightly. I didn't think much of it at the time."

"It's strange," Hawkeye muttered.

"Hey, don't jump to conclusions. We don't want a witch hunt," BJ warned.

"I want to keep her a few days more, just to see if anything else happens," Hawkeye said.

"You're paranoid. I don't know how you sucked me into it," BJ said, shaking his head.

"Just a few more days," Hawkeye insisted.

"Fine," BJ said. "It's stupid though. There's probably a reasonable explanation for her behaviour."

* * *

"So what, you've finished your work today?" Lona asked.

"I think I'm meant to write up some kind of report, but it can wait," Klinger said.

"Apparently I'm doing ok," Lona said. Klinger nodded.

"Hey Klinger, Lona, sorry to bother you," BJ said, coming up to them. "I just thought you'd like to know, Lona, you're going to go home."

"So she'll be ok?" Klinger asked excitedly.

"Yes, but we'd like to keep Lona here three or four more days before sending you home," BJ said.

"But I've never been fitter," Lona said.

"We want you to stay here with us for a few more days," BJ repeatedly, nodding his head towards Klinger. Lona's eyes opened wide with understanding.

"Oh, ok," she said. "Whatever you say, doctor."

"Glad to see we understand each other," BJ said with a grin before walking off.

"I'm going home," Lona said to Klinger. She gave a sad smile. "I don't even think I remember what my friends faces look like."

"Your memory just needs a boost," Klinger said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a hug. "I'm sure everyone remembers you."

Lona looked up at Klinger, and gave him one of her full smiles, the one where he could hear music in his head. He suddenly knew, he wanted to marry Lona.

* * *

"Hey, Lona," Hawkeye said. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," Lona replied. It was later that night, and there were few people in the Post-op. Hawkeye sat on the cot opposite Lona, and stared at her.

"How did you know Klinger would be behind Rosie's?" he asked. "How did you know about the dresses?"

Lona blinked twice. "I… I don't think I can tell you," she said finally.

"Did Klinger tell you he wore dresses to get of the army before?" Hawkeye asked. "Did he tell you he was going to be behind Rosie's bar?"

"No," Lona said. "I probably guessed what his section eight days were like when he gave me that blue shirt to wear, but didn't really know until he gave me this red dress."

"You told me he would be behind Rosie's, putting a dress on," Hawkeye said, leaning forward. "That's where he was and that's what he was doing. How did you know?"

"I don't know," Lona said loudly, tears brimming in her eyes. Hawkeye sighed and leant back.

"Sorry," he said. "I suppose you don't know how you recovered so fast from that infection?"

"I haven't studied nursing for nearly two years. In a POW camp, you've got more to worry about than remembering how the body works," Lona replied. "I can't remember a lot of my nursing courses."

Hawkeye shook his head. "I must sound like a crazy case to you," he said, smiling. "Has anyone changed your bandages since yesterday?" Lona shook her head. Hawkeye beckoned to nurse Baker who had just walked in. "She's due in for a bandage change," he said. Baker nodded, and went over to Lona.

"Close your eyes," Baker said to Hawkeye. Sighing, Hawkeye looked away. There were sounds of blankets and clothes rustling, and bandages being removed. There was a gasp from Baker, and Hawkeye turned around again. Baker had started to remove the bandages on Lona's stomach, so now her mid drift was showing, but there was no scarring on Lona.

"What the hell?" Hawkeye asked, moving forward. He ran his fingers lightly over Lona's stomach for a moment.

"Hawkeye," Lona said, giggling. "I'm ticklish."

"Sorry," Hawkeye said, moving his hands away. He stared into Lona's large brown eyes, thoughts running around in his head. Lona stared back from under her long lashes.

"Not what you expected?" she asked. Hawkeye shook his head.

"Not what I expected at all," he replied. "Who are you? What are you? How-"

"I don't want to get into it," Lona pleaded.

BJ's words started marching around Hawkeye's head. _"We don't want a witch hunt."_

"Check under the rest of the bandage, then come see me in the Swamp," Hawkeye said to Baker before walking out.

* * *

"Ok, you are officially nuts now," BJ said to Hawkeye.

"I'm not kidding," Hawkeye said. He was back in the Swamp, and had just finished telling BJ what had just happened with Lona in the Post op.

"Hawkeye?" Baker asked from the door.

"Come in," Hawkeye said, thinking.

"No scarring, at all," Baker said. She looked confused. "It was like, she'd never been injured."

"See?" Hawkeye said to BJ.

"I operated on her, though," BJ said. "I took enough shrapnel from her to make a car out of."

"She wouldn't, or couldn't, tell me what was happening, though," Hawkeye said. "Maybe we should talk to Klinger about it."

"Why?" BJ asked.

"She might be dangerous," Hawkeye said. "She could be… I don't know, sucking the life force from Klinger to heal herself or something."

"Ok, Hawkeye, where's the comic book?" BJ asked. "Every time a kid in my class came up with a crazy story like that, it was because he'd been reading comics."

"I tell you, there's something strange about Lona," Hawkeye said.

"Keep out of it," BJ warned. "Don't make me go to Colonel Potter about it."

"We should tell Klinger," Hawkeye said. BJ shook his head.

"Leave them be, Hawk," BJ said, laying down on his cot. "Lona is _not_ dangerous."

"Keep watch on her," Hawkeye said to Baker, waving her away. Baker nodded, and hurried out again. Moodily, Hawkeye stared at the back of the Swamp door, wondering what Lona's story was.

* * *

**Kooshball:** Woo, another chapter of "Twist of Lemon". Tell me what you think, and I'll update when the next chapter is ready. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Kooshball: **Even I didn't know what was happening with Lona when I started this chapter. I came up with a few solutions, but none really worked. Finally, I came up with the perfect answer, but you'll have to read on to find out what it is.

* * *

Hawkeye walked into the Swamp, silent. 

"What happened?" BJ asked.

"I lost her," Hawkeye said, more to himself than his tent mate. "One moment, she was there, the next, she was gone."

BJ looked up from Peg's letter to say something encouraging, but instantly forgot what he was going to say when he saw the sticky red substance on Hawkeye's shirt.

**Before**

"What's happening?" Klinger asked desperately.

"Relapse," Charles said. "Pierce has to go back in." Klinger turned pale, and struggled to remember what Lona's smile looked like, the real one, to make everything feel better. The image didn't float to the top of his head like it used to, his mind was frozen.

"What about BJ?" he asked. "BJ operated originally."

"Hunnicutt is with Father Mulcahy at the orphanage, giving the children vaccinations. They won't be back for at least another hour. We need to act now," Charles said. Klinger struggled away, still trying to bring up Lona's face in his mind. He panicked when he couldn't even see her features. He ran from the Post op, trying to hold down his stomach. Outside, Lona was sitting in the sun in her red dress and writing a letter.

"Klinger, are you ok?" she asked.

"A guy in there, relapsed," Klinger explained, trying hard to breathe. "I was talking to him yesterday, he was going home, he had a family, kids, a dog." Klinger felt a tear slide down his cheek. "It's so unfair," he wailed. Lona opened her arms and hugged Klinger, rubbing him gently on the back.

"He might be alright," Lona said.

"I don't think so," Klinger said, calming down. "He was pretty bad."

"He'll be ok," Lona said, giving Klinger a final squeeze before letting him go.

"You really think so?" Klinger asked. Lona nodded, a small smile on her lips. He took a deep breath, and then smiled at her. "Thanks," he said. "I'm over reacting, Hawkeye's a great doctor, if he can't pull that guy through, it's impossible." Lona continued nodding, the smile almost invisible to the world.

"It'll work out," she said. "You'll see."

* * *

Hawkeye walked into the Swamp, silent. 

"What happened?" BJ asked.

"I lost her," Hawkeye said, more to himself than his tent mate. "One moment, she was there, the next, she was gone."

BJ looked up from Peg's letter to say something encouraging, but instantly forgot what he was going to say when he saw the sticky red substance on Hawkeye's shirt.

"So what happened?" he asked eventually.

"Threw her drink at me," Hawkeye replied sullenly.

"Tough break," BJ said. "Charles won't be happy when he finds out that was his best port, either."

"Well he shouldn't have stored it where I would find it," Hawkeye said.

"Where's that?" BJ asked.

"In the secret compartment of his record player," Hawkeye said grinning. He sighed. "Am I losing my touch, Beej?" he asked. "I mean, at the beginning of the war, I was doing great. No nurse could resist me. Now, it's like I'm Frankenstein's monster and no nurse will have a thing to do with me."

"It's only because they know what you're like," BJ said, going back to his letter. "it'll be right once a new nurse comes in."

"Yeah," Hawkeye said, pulling his wine soaked shirt off. "I hope this will come out, it looks too much like blood for my liking."

"Sirs?" Klinger knocked at the tent door.

"Come in, Klinger," BJ said, putting his letter away. Klinger came in and paled when he saw the red stained shirt.

"Relax, just wine," Hawkeye said, seeing the Corporal's look.

"I want to talk to you about something, Captain Hunnicutt," Klinger said.

"Fine then, ignore me," Hawkeye said, pretending to sulk as he pulled his robe on.

"What's up, Klinger?" BJ said, inviting him to sit down.

"I… I bought Lona a ring," he said.

"A wedding ring?" BJ asked. Klinger nodded.

"You want to know when the best time is to propose to her?" Hawkeye guessed. Klinger nodded again.

"I know you can't fit too much romance into a MASH unit, but I want to try," he said.

"Leave it to us," BJ said, giving Klinger a grin. "We'll set up the officer's club for you."

"Really?" Klinger's face lit up. "Awww, you guys are the best!"

Hawkeye opened his mouth as if to say something, but BJ gave him a look and shook his head. Hawkeye sighed quietly. "Good luck," he finally said.

"Thank you, sir," Klinger said, unable to keep a grin off his face. He left the Swamp, almost skipping with happiness.

"I tell you, this isn't good," Hawkeye muttered, stretching out on his cot.

"If you were any more paranoid, we'd have to start calling you Frank," BJ replied.

* * *

"That man who relapsed earlier today is stable, Captain," the nurse said. 

"Ok, just check up on him every half hour," the doctor replied. "I'm going to talk to Lieutenant Humphrey privately." The nurse nodded and left, and the surgeon walked to Lona's cot. The woman woke instantly.

"Hi," she said, sitting up quietly.

"I need to talk to you. About your injuries," the Captain said.

"I didn't think Hawkeye would keep it to himself," Lona said. "It is unusual, you might even think supernatural. I can't explain it, really, but I can try."

"If you would," BJ said. He felt guilty, as if he were betraying Klinger. He'd told Hawkeye there was nothing strange about Lona, and now he was here, in Post op, looking into the story himself.

"My great Grandmother," Lona said. "Yes, I guess it could be traced back to her."

"What could be traced back to her?" BJ asked.

"The… abnormalities. It usually skips most of the family, but occasionally, one of us will find we're slightly different to the rest," Lona said. "Psychic abilities, sixth senses, healing properties, telepathic powers. Whatever they are, it doesn't really matter." She looked up at BJ. "People have tried to explain it. They can never prove it, though."

"Could you explain a little more clearly?" BJ asked. Lona gave her small smile.

"I can… sense things. I can… see things… happening miles away… months away. Not always clear, not always correct. Sometimes, I even experience events as if I were there. They are more rare, harder to predict, but whatever happens there, happens to me." Lona paused to lick her lips thoughtfully.

"My great Grandmother was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. Folklore says that's how women can gain mystical powers. She seemed to have them, too." Lona paused. "If she predicted rain, it would rain. If she said a woman would become pregnant, she would. Sensed disasters, before they happened. But like I said, not all my family has those abilities, and I just seem to have one or two."

"You know, Hawkeye suspects you of being a witch, or an alien," BJ said, trying to lighten the mood with a joke. Lona smiled slightly.

"Maybe I am," she said.

"How did you heal so fast?" BJ asked, his spine tingling with the smile. Lona shrugged.

"I don't know how any of this happens, it just does," she said. "Same way if I close my eyes, I can sometimes see what's happening, or what will happen."

"Could I have a demonstration?" BJ asked, still a little skeptical. Lona closed her eyes slowly.

"Major Winchester should stop hiding his valuables in the compartment on his record player is he wants to keep them safe from you and Captain Pierce," she said. BJ's spine tingled again, and this time he shivered.

"OK, I believe you," he said hurriedly. "Our last company clerk was kind of similar." Lona looked up with interest.

"What was his name?" she asked.

"Radar, no, Walter O'Reilly," BJ said, correcting himself. Lona smiled, almost a genuine one this time.

"Yeah, I know him," she said. "He's my second cousin, my mother's side. I don't see him much, a Christmas card each year, occasionally a phone call." BJ smiled back.

"Might have guessed you'd be related somehow," he said. "I've never known anyone to be able to sense things before they happen, quite like Radar."

"Radar," Lona said. "Better than what I used to get. I was called witch, and a few other nasty names I won't mention."

"So it's been tough?" BJ asked.

"Walt had it lucky, as far as I could tell. Kept it under wraps as much as he could until he was older, came from a nice town. I made the mistake of telling my primary school teacher her daughter was going to be left at the alter," Lona said.

"Was she?" BJ asked. Lona nodded. "Weird," BJ muttered. Lona gave her small smile.

"Captain Pierce will be wondering where you are," she said. "You just said you were checking up on a patient."

"Right," BJ said, standing up. "Thanks for explaining everything." Lona shrugged.

"I figured you would understand," she said. Her eyes closed again, and BJ let her be.

* * *

The Officer's club was empty. Native flowers, streamers and candles were positioned on the tables and walls around the room, except for on the centre table, which instead supported a silk shawl, doubling as a table cloth. The candles flicked slightly from the drafts coming in the gaps in the walls, giving the room a mystical look, but essentially, it was warm and cozy inside. Lona's face had burst into a happy smile when Klinger showed it to her. 

"Max, it's beautiful," she said. "You've gone to so much trouble."

"I wanted it to be perfect," Klinger said. He was annoyed he hadn't been able to wear anything but his green khaki uniform, but thought Lona looked very beautiful in her red dress. Some of the nurses had lent Lona bits and pieces of make-up they had around their tents, and she glimmered like an exotic rose.

"I bet you don't do this for all of the other people who go home," Lona said, a small smile playing on her lips. Klinger grinned sheepishly. Lona leant forward and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. Klinger stopped for a moment, slightly surprised at her forwardness, then got out of his chair, kneeling on one knee on the ground in front of her. He took the small velvet box from his pocket and opened it.

"Lona…" he said. He paused as he tried to remember the exact words he'd rehearsed in his tent earlier.

"Oh, Klinger," Lona said, sounding upset. She pulled Klinger up, and he sat back on his chair. "I… I can't." She could feel her heart breaking into tiny pieces as she said the words, and she knew there was no taking them back.

"What?" Klinger was crushed. "Why not?" He slapped himself in the head. "You're married," he said, sounding like he hated himself for being such an idiot. Lona shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. "You're engaged?" he asked. Lona shook her head again, a tear sliding down her face.

"I can't marry you," she said, voice shaking slightly. "I love you, but I can't marry you." Klinger took her hands in his own.

"Why not?" he asked gently. Lona shook her head and turned away. Klinger turned her face back towards him. "Why not?" he repeated.

"I just can't," Lona said. "Please understand." Klinger shook his head, trying to blink back his own tears. Lona wiped her eye, then smiled at him. "I told myself I'd never feel happy again," she said. "Then I met you."

"I can't live without you," Klinger pleaded, holding the velvet box out to her again. Lona closed the box, and pushed it into his hands.

"You will married by the end of the war," she said, closing her eyes. "But it won't be to me." She stood up slowly, and walked from the officer's club.

* * *

BJ ripped down a streamer. "I feel sorry for Klinger," he said. "I can't believe she said no." 

Hawkeye shook his head. "At least he isn't going back to the dresses," he said.

"Do you think she was telling the truth?" BJ asked.

"About the whole marriage thing?" Hawkeye asked. He shrugged. "Maybe."

"She's related to Radar, you know," BJ said.

"Yeah?"

"It might be why she's able to see things."

"How'd you find out she was a relation of Radar's?" Hawkeye wanted to know.

"I asked," BJ said, keeping his back turned on Hawkeye.

"So after telling me she was ok, you went and found out for yourself," Hawkeye said.

"Yeah, I know. I'm a hypocrite," BJ said. "It was worth it though, right?"

"Eh, probably," Hawkeye said with a shrug. BJ scrunched up the streamers he had and threw them at the back of Hawkeye's head.

* * *

Lona was quiet when it came time for her to be driven to the Seoul base, where she'd eventually be flown home. A few of the 4077th members had come out to the compound to say goodbye. 

"Good luck," BJ said to her.

"I wish I was in your place," Hawkeye added. Lona nodded politely, but didn't smile.

"He's not coming," she said.

"Who?" BJ asked.

"Max," Lona replied. She stared past the two surgeons with a look of longing.

"Do you wants us to go get him?" Hawkeye asked.

"Is there time?" she asked as if she already knew the answer.

"No, not really," BJ said, looking worried.

"We'll make time," Hawkeye said. "Give me two minutes, ok?" He jogged off towards Klinger's office.

"Hawkeye'll talk some sense into him," BJ said to Lona, but he sounded unsure.

Hawkeye found Klinger writing out a report at his desk.

"Lona's leaving, you know," he said.

"I know," Klinger replied.

"This is your last chance to say goodbye," Hawkeye said.

"I know," Klinger said again. Hawkeye sighed, and sat down on the end of Klinger's cot.

"You know, I would have given anything to say goodbye to Trapper," Hawkeye said. "I still would."

"Are you trying to tell me something, sir?" Klinger asked, a slightly bitter tone in his voice.

"You're getting the chance I missed," Hawkeye said. "Don't waste it." Klinger was still for a minute. "She really wants to say goodbye," Hawkeye added.

"I know," Klinger said. He stood slowly, and walked out the door. Hawkeye followed him.

"Here he is," BJ said to Lona, sounding relieved. Klinger stopped beside the jeep, facing Lona. The woman embraced Klinger, and Klinger hugged her back.

"I'm sorry," Lona muttered so only he could hear. She pulled away, and gave him a smile, the one that Klinger had fallen in love with. His heart ached as the jeep was started, and seemed to break as it drove off.

"Come on, Klinger, let us buy you a drink," Hawkeye offered, a comforting hand on Klinger's shoulder. Klinger nodded, and followed the two to the officer's club.

* * *

Lona closed her eyes on the plane, as they were going over the sea of Japan. She missed Max, but knew they would never be together, though she wasn't sure why. She thought of Walter, or Radar as everyone had called him at the 4077th, and thought of how lucky he had been at life. He never experienced the name calling she did. She wondered about his life at the 4077th, and decided she'd ask about it when she got home. 

Lona suddenly heard bangs, and screaming. The plane started spiraling downward, and she could see people around her panicking. The man beside her was yelling out a woman's name over and over again; "Lorain!" Others around them were screaming out prayers. Lona could feel her heart racing as the water came up to greet the plane, and knew this was the end.

The other passengers on the plane didn't know why the brown haired nurse was screaming. As far as they could tell, nothing was wrong. Some dismissed it as nightmares from the war. It wasn't until five minutes after the screams had stopped did someone realise she was dead. When an autopsy was held back in the States, it was found she'd drowned on salt water, though there was no explanation for it. Then again, no-one had ever been able to explain the things that happened to Lona Humphrey.

**Kooshball: **Ok, that last little bit was thrown in at the last minute to make it interesting. Tell me what you think, so I know what you guys are looking for next time I write a fic. :)


	7. Final Twist

**Kooshball:** Well, I thought that a few people might be angry that I killed a character off, so this is an ending I've written over the last few days for the people who didn't want Lona to die. This ending is all very confusing and messy, but it kinda fits in with the rest of it. Don't forget to review!

* * *

Lona sat up in bed hurriedly. Though she looked calm and was breathing normally, her heart was beating quickly in her chest. It was 1957, several years after the Korean war. She hadn't been involved, heck, she barely knew anything about it except the politicians kept calling it a "police action" and her second cousin, Walter, had been there.

Lona struggled quickly out from under the covers, pulling a robe on before leaving her room. The old house creaked as she went to the phone, trying to calculate what the time it would be in Iowa. Either they were yesterday or tomorrow, Lona could never remember. Reaching the phone, she picked up the receiver, and dialed the operator.

"Hello? Yes, I'd like to put a call through to Iowa, America. Where? Um, Ottumwa. Yes, I'll wait." Lona sat down as there was a small click on the other end. It was only a few minutes later when she could hear the call being connected to the operator in Iowa.

"I'm after the O'Reilly farm," Lona said. "Yes, Walter O'Reilly's place." There was a few moments waiting for the call to be connected to the farm, but she smiled when she heard the other end ring. On the fourth ring, someone picked it up.

"O'Reilly residence," a male voice on the other end said. He sounded youngish, maybe a bit too serious to be the younger second cousin Lona remembered from 9 years ago.

"Walter?" Lona asked, sounding slightly unsure. "It's cousin Lona."

"Lona! Hey, how ya been?" the voice on the other end asked. "I hear you moved over to New Zealand last year."

"Australia, actually," Lona said. "The people here are great, very friendly, like their sports. I kind of miss the baseball, though."

"Oh yeah, you were always a Mets fan."

"Listen, Walt, I called for a reason," Lona said. "I wanted to know about Korea."

"What about it?" The voice on the other end suddenly sounded suspicious and wary.

"I had a dream just before," Lona explained. "Like what Great Grandma Gabrielle used to have." She paused to lick her lips. Walter would be the only one who would understand about Great Grandma Gabrielle. "It was about Korea."

"What's it got to do with me?" Walter asked.

"Well, you were at Korea," Lona said, starting to falter. "And someone in my dream mentioned you…"

"I'm going to have to cut you off in a minute," the operator interrupted. Lona nodded, even though they wouldn't see her.

"I only want another minute," she said. "Walter, we've only got a minute. Look, I need to talk to you about this, ok? I'll take a flight from Melbourne in a weeks time, and head to Iowa. We can talk then."

"I still don't know what this is all about," Walter said.

"You will soon enough, Radar," Lona said the second before the line was cut. Lona put the phone receiver down. She wondered what Walter's reaction would be, being called Radar. Either her dream was real, or Walter thought she was a loony. Lona picked up the phone again to make plans.

* * *

Lona always felt nervous flying on planes. She didn't feel right, being hundred of miles up in the air, with nothing to stop them from falling and crashing into the Earth. This flight had been alright, quiet, smooth, the only hassle had been a man a few seats in front of her being rude to the air hostess.

She only had a small bag with her, which held a few changes of clothes and a diary where she'd recorded the dream in full. Walter was waiting for her outside, she easily recognised him under the baseball cap and the round glasses. She closed her eyes for a split moment of bliss of being back on her home soil, and instantly got an image of Walter in army fatigues, clipboard in one hand, greenish beanie on his head, and his glasses in need of cleaning. When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the airport, Walter giving her a wave. She waved back.

"I can't believe you flew all the way out from Australia," Walter said. Lona shrugged, just a hint of a smile on her lips.

"I like to try and keep in touch with my family," she said. Walter took her bag, and led her to a farm truck. He hoisted her bag into the back tray as she got into the passengers seat. She jumped when a collie licked her arm.

"Oh, don't mind him," Walter said, getting behind the wheel. "Joe's very friendly." Lona patted the black and white dog on the head gently.

"So how's the farm been?" she asked as the truck started up.

"Oh, you know, alright, I guess," Walter said. "But you didn't come here to discuss the farm." Lona smiled a little.

"No, I didn't," she said. "Listen, Walt, I'm a little jetlagged. You don't mind if I nap a little during the trip?"

"Go ahead," Walter said. "I don't mind. Joe's here to keep me company." Lona nodded, and leant up against the truck door. Her eye lids felt heavy, and they closed by themselves after a few moments.

* * *

The next thing Lona remembered was Walter shaking her awake.

"We're here," he told her. Joe the collie was also licking her arm. "I set up a bed inside if you want to sleep some more," Walter continued as Lona stretched a little.

"No, I want to get this out of the way," Lona said, getting out of the truck. The farm was as she remembered it. She'd always loved the old house and its surroundings. She followed Walter inside, leaving her bag just inside the door.

"Can I get you anything? A drink? Sandwiches?" Walter wanted to know.

"I'm ok," Lona said. "Maybe just a glass of water. They did feed us on the flight, you know." She sat down in the living room as Walter organised himself in the kitchen. There was a picture of Walter's mother beside her and Lona felt a brief moment of sadness. She'd missed the funeral, just last year, and felt a little guilty for doing so. She had no choice, circumstances held her back in Australia. She was just putting the frame face down on the table when Walter came in with two drinks and a sandwich on a tray. He put it on the coffee table and sat opposite Lona. She took the drink thankfully and sipped it quietly.

"So why did you come back?" Walter wanted to know.

"I had a dream," Lona said slowly. "I think it was like one of Great Grandma Gabrielle's dreams."

"Oh?" Walter asked. She didn't have to explain to him what she meant, he'd experienced the same sort of thing.

"I was in Korea," Lona continued. "I was a nurse, POW for most of it. It felt so real, every sound, sight, smell, every touch." She paused to shiver. "After a year or two, I escaped. Even the time felt real. There was no jumping from one event to another. This was all real time, if you understand what I mean." Walter nodded.

"I know what you mean," he said.

"So, I escaped," Lona said. "I was hurt, half blown away. My chest was a mess." She paused again when Walter turned a little pink around the cheeks. "The pain, it was like it was someone else's," Lona continued. "I think I was ready to give up. Then, I came across a MASH unit." She stood up. "Wait a minute," she said, going to her bag and coming back with the diary she's written her dream in.

"I was at a MASH unit," Walter said when she came back. He had a hint of pride in his voice. "I was company clerk." Lona smiled.

She flipped open her diary, and scanned the first few pages. "Here it is. I had arrived at the 4077th."

"That's where I was!" Walter said. Lona nodded.

"There was a new company clerk there," she said. She squinted at her scrawled print. "Corporal Max Klinger."

"I knew him!" Walter said. He suddenly frowned. "How do I know you're not pulling a fast one on me?" he demanded. "You could have got all this information from my mother!"

"What, and fly a million miles to play a joke on you?" Lona asked. "When have I ever played a joke on you, Walt? Anyway, your mother never sent me anything. The most I got was a Christmas card every second year. We may have been family, but my father's branch of the family tree was always ignored somewhat." Lona calmed herself again and took another sip from her glass.

"I'm sorry," Walter said. "It's just it seems weird that you dreamed about the camp I was in during the war."

"I didn't know it was the same camp you'd been in," Lona said. "Not at first, anyway. Max took me to the operating room, where I collapsed. I was operated on, sent to post op, where he came in every so often. He seemed very concerned for me." Lona paused. "There were three main surgeons. Captain Pierce, Captain Hunnicutt, and Major Winchester. Hunnicutt operated on me, though Pierce and Winchester also looked after me. Pierce was very curious about me, why I healed so quickly, why I knew where people were even though I couldn't leave the Post op. I think Winchester was more concerned about Max's feelings when they found out I was infected."

"Major Winchester?" Walter asked. "No disrespect to you, Lona, but I don't think he was ever concerned for anyone but himself."

"Maybe," Lona said, sipping her drink.

"Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt are swell guys, though," Walter continued. "Hawkeye and BJ, boy, what a pair."

"It was maybe a week or two after I had gone to the 4077th," Lona continued, "that Pierce realised I was completely healed. He was worried, because he'd seen me when I'd first come to the unit, and no-one heals wounds that quickly. Hunnicutt came to talk to me one night, find out why I was like I was. I explained to him our family tree, and he mentioned a 'Radar O'Reilly', previous company clerk with similar abilities."

"Me," Walter said. Lona nodded.

"You. The only one apart from me that was blessed with Great Grandma Gabrielle's abilities."

"So that's how you knew my nickname," Walter said. "On the phone, last week." Lona nodded.

"My last night at the unit, Max took me to their officer's club, which, incidentally, was open to all, and not just officers."

"Why?" Walter asked.

"He proposed," Lona said. "I loved him, Walt, I would have said yes, if I hadn't sensed it."

"Sensed what?" Walter asked.

"The future," she said, a teary look in her eyes. "I was sent home, on a plane. Over the sea of Japan, I closed my eyes, trying to get my mind off flying."

Walter nodded. "You never did like it," he said.

"I heard screams, the plane had been shot. We crashed into the sea, people around me screaming. The one I remember most was the man beside me. He had a hat covered in those silly fishing flies. He kept screaming, _Loraine, Loraine_." Lona put her glass down on the table, and closed the diary.

"That was Henry," Walter said, eyes going wide. "He had one of those hats, his wife was Loraine…"

"And his plane crashed over the sea of Japan," Lona finished. "I saw it as if I was there. A dream within a dream, almost. I drowned, while the plane flew high over the waves." Lona paused. "I woke up then. I rang you, to see if any made sense to you. Obviously it does."

"Maybe it was just a dream," Walter suggested. "You just, I don't know, _saw_ my experiences and fitted them to suit yourself."

"Maybe," Lona said. She opened the diary again, to the back page, and lifted out an envelope. It had the Army's stamp on it, and she handed it to Walter. He looked up from it at her, unsure of what it was. "Read it," Lona said. Walter opened it and straightened out the letter inside.

"_Madam, it is our sad duty to inform you that your daughter Lona Humphrey died coming home from Korea. She had served America well, and must be a great loss to her family._" Walter looked up. "What is this?" he asked.

"My mother got that during the war," Lona said. "She imagined there had been a mix up, some poor woman had died in the war, and the Army sent her the letter with my name on it instead. I'd never been to Korea, I lived just a few blocks from my mother, so she knew I wasn't dead. She never gave it a second thought." Lona's eyes seemed to glow for a split second. "I kept the letter, it interested me. I only realised what it meant when I woke up from my dream."

"That was you in Korea," Walter said. Lona nodded. He stood up and went to the phone.

"He's married now, isn't he?" Lona asked. Walter nodded. They both knew who she was talking about.

"Operator?" Walter said after picking up the phone. "Yeah, I'd like to put a call through to Toledo. Uh-huh… Uh-huh. Ok, I'll hold." Lona casually put the letter back in its envelope as Walter waited on the phone.

"I want to put a call through to Max Klinger. Yep, ok."

Lona stood up, wondering what it would have been like to live in Toledo with Klinger.

"Hey, Klinger? Yeah it's me, Radar. I know it's been a long time … oh yeah? Well, I hope that works out for you. Hey, listen, I was just talking to my second cousin. She says she knows you… No, from the war. Her name is Lona Humphrey… Yeah? No, she's not dead. You know what the army's like… Uh-huh, I'll tell her." Walter glanced over at Lona, who was standing there quietly.

"I miss him too," she said.

"Klinger, she says she misses you, too… Ok, I'll ask." Walter turned to Lona. "You want to talk to him?" he asked. Lona shook her head.

"It's ok. He's happy without me, I don't want to ruin a good thing," she said.

"She won't come to the phone… Ok, Klinger, I hope we catch up again later. Bye." Walter hung up.

"So how is he?" Lona asked.

"He's fine," Walter said. He looked at Lona as if still slightly confused. "You actually died over there," he said finally.

"I wonder if Great Grandma Gabrielle ever did anything like that," Lona said, with a small sad, smile.


End file.
